Chapter 3 - The Wrong Kind of Calm
The problem with Elena was that she did not act guilty. She also did not act deferential. To a man like Hollis, that made her worse than suspicious. It made her disrespectful.
He held out one hand. “ID.”
She lifted it from her collar, but another gust snapped the card sideways. Hollis caught only a flash of color before it flipped back. Reed, standing behind him, leaned forward slightly.
Elena noticed.
“You saw enough,” she said to Reed.
Hollis’s jaw tightened. “You don’t speak to my Marines.”
“I’m trying to reach Colonel Vale.”
“Then Colonel Vale can send an escort.”
“He already sent authorization.”
“Not to me.”
She looked past him toward the concrete operations building, where the exterior metal stairs climbed toward the second-floor entrance. A Marine at the top of those stairs turned, saw her, and started moving inside like he recognized trouble arriving late.
Elena’s face changed by a fraction.
Hollis missed it.
Reed did not.
“Staff Sergeant,” Reed said carefully, “maybe we should call this in.”
Hollis did not look at him. “I’m handling it.”
Elena lowered her voice. “No, Staff Sergeant. You’re interrupting it.”
That sentence landed wrong in front of the gate crew. A few Marines glanced over. A contractor stopped beside a pallet. Hollis felt the audience before he admitted it.
He stepped closer. “Ma’am, you are not entering this facility.”
Elena’s eyes stayed level. “Then put Colonel Vale on the radio.”
“You don’t give orders here.”
“I’m not giving an order. I’m giving you one more chance to avoid explaining this later.”
For a second, the wind moved dust between them.
Then Hollis reached for her satchel strap.
Elena stepped back.
Not in fear.
May you like
In refusal.
And the whole situation shifted toward the stairs.
